


The Storyteller

by Antipodean2



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: A Little Fun, A little angst, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Caves, Clexa, Clexaweek2019, F/F, Lots of story telling, between clarke and lexa, get your minds out of the gutter, may be longer than I planned, not those types of caves, out door living, pauna, there will be kissing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-10-25 13:11:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17725826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antipodean2/pseuds/Antipodean2
Summary: Canon divergence, The Arkers descended to Earth 30 years before the events of the 100 series begin. They established a colony of several villages and farms called Arkadia. Their largest settlement is called Alpha Village. There is no 12 clan coalition, Skaikru have made alliances with 4 of the 12 clans and there is an uneasy peace with the rest. Clarke works with her mother in the infirmary and escapes the monotony of her life when she can, in old books and daydreams. One day she stumbles upon a mysterious woman telling Arker kids fantastic stories. But are they just stories and is the storyteller who she appears to be?‘She sighed dramatically before deciding to look inside the bag, she carefully untied the leather thong that held it closed and emptied the contents into her hand.Clarke’s eyes widened and she laughed out loud; there in her palm was the ugliest creature she had ever seen. It was the Pauna, and it was exactly as she had imagined it from Lexa’s story. Pauna was indeed a hideously deformed gorilla.’





	1. Clarkes Day

**Author's Note:**

> this story came from a dream I had last year and has been kicking around in my head ever since. I will try and update regularly probably fortnightly. Not really sure how long this will be just yet.

Clarke Griffin moved slowly towards the mess hall, her back ached, so she stretched her arms above her head and rotated her neck, cracking it as she did so. She had spent six hours that morning, planting out herbs and vegetables in the pharmaceutical garden. It was her mother Abby’s idea, that the garden be established. Abby hoped that one day the garden would produce enough raw materials to be used in the synthesis of medicines.  
  
Abby was the chief medic of Arkadia and had been for the last fifteen years, Clarke was five years old when her mother, had received her promotion from the council. Clarke could still recall her mother’s elation at the appointment, Jake, had been so proud of Abby. In celebration he had made a poppy seed honey cake.  
  
It was the first time Clarke had ever had one and she still remembered how excited she had been at having something so moist and sweet. Clarke smiled wistfully as she remembered her father’s laughter, her fingers ghosted across the band of his watch as it rested on her wrist. The smile fell from her lips and she tried to ignore, the all too familiar heartache that thinking about her father always left her with.  
  
Sighing deeply, Clarke continued walking slowly towards the village mess hall, she suddenly remembered that the Blake siblings had brought in a deer last week and the thought made her smile. That meant there was a high possibly of venison stew on the menu today, she increased her pace. She was contemplating the impressive hunting prowess of Bell and O, when she was almost knocked over by a group of children.  
  
“Hey watch where you’re going” she shouted at them, but they ignored her, heading out of the village at a dangerously reckless pace. “Kids” she groaned, before continuing on her way to the mess. 

A little over an hour later, Clarke returned to the village square, her stomach now filled with stew and her mood considerably improved. She took a moment to review the scene before her. Alpha village was bustling with activity; small solar powered carts were being loaded with goods from the market, to be taken to outlying farms.   
Traders had set up stalls and were selling goods of all shapes and sizes, while varied and interesting stall food was being prepared and sold from portable kitchens. Clarke waved when she recognised Monty and his mother heading back to their farm with a stocked cart. Monty smiled ruefully and waved back, she felt for him, he hated farming and wanted nothing more than to work with Raven and Sinclair in the engineering team, but after his father’s death, he was needed on the farm more than ever. 

Clarke allowed her gaze to settle on the brightly coloured stalls that had been set up by journeymen and women from the allied clans, mainly Podakru and Delphikru, although later in the year Floukru would bring fish, and the Yujledakru, meat. These four clans of the twelve known clans, made up the only alliance the council had been able to make with the grounders. Clarke wandered over to the stalls, admiring the fabrics and furs, knives and axes, as well as trinkets from the old world. Clarke felt excitement rise up in her chest as she recognised a stall holder and noticed the books at the back of his stall. She calculated quickly, she should have enough now to barter with; maybe she could get four or even five this time. 

Clarke loved stories from the old world and she was saddened that this new world on the ground, seemed bereft of stories. The allied clans didn’t seem to have any tales of note and she knew the stories from the ark by rote and they no longer sparked much enthusiasm in her.  
Clarke briefly wondered about the clans that the Arkers had failed to form alliances with, the two most powerful clans, the Trikru and Azgeda, were in a constant state of warfare with each other. The council had been able to negotiate a non-aggression pact with both clans, provided that the Arkers or Skaikru as the clans called them, remained neutral. The pact permitted escorted movement of Arkers through Azgeda and Trikru territories and vice versa but for trade purposes only.

This pact had only been made possible after the Arkers had destroyed the mountain men, the Maunon, as the clans referred to them. Clarke new this story very well, it was the most exciting thing that happened to her people since the descent to Earth thirty years previously and as she had a personal stake in the story she took a moment to replay it in her mind.


	2. The Mountain Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 of storyteller, Clarke hunts for her favourite things and recalls the story of the mountain as told to Clarke by her father Jake Griffin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I liked the idea of exploring who Clarke's grandmother was so I gave her a role in this and as I always found the idea of sending children to the ground as guinea pigs frustrating, particularly when the technology was clearly available for the Ark to send unmanned rovers just like we do now to mars... So I threw in Grandma Griffin and an alternate story line.
> 
> let me know if you like this, I am keen for your feedback and comments, assuming any one reads this of course..:)
> 
> I will try and update regularly

Thirty years ago when Ark engineers first discovered that the air supply on the ark could only maintain the population for a few more decades, the twelve stations had come together to build two exodus ships. These ships were designed to evacuate the entire population of the Ark back to the Earth. The only problem was that according to some Ark scientists, it would take two hundred years for the radiation levels on Earth to reduce until they were survivable for humans.

Clarke’s grandmother, Jane Griffin, entered the story at this point, she was an engineer, and had argued that it was imperative to send a scout ship to test the atmosphere on the ground prior to any exodus launch. Jane had received limited support from the council, as some were still skeptical about the ark running out of air, while others saw it as a waste of resources. Jane was however able to secure enough support to send a drop ship to Earth, with an automated rover on board. When the drop ship landed, the rover deployed to the surface and gathered atmospheric, soil and water samples, analyzing them for radiation levels. The telemetry sent back from the rover had been far more promising than initially believed and the council was soon convinced that it was safe enough to implement the decent, years ahead of schedule. 

But then things began to unravel, just prior to the exodus launch, tests of the communications array seemed to indicate a problem with the guidance systems for both exodus ships. After some investigation it appeared that a jamming single was being transmitted from the ground, from mount weather in what had once been the US state of Virginia. Initially Jane and her fellow engineers had assumed that the jamming signal was an old automated system that had been activated during the Great War and had been operating ever since.

However after several weeks of analysis, the Arkers came to the startling conclusion that there may be people still alive and living in the mountains bunkers. Jane and her colleagues attempted radio communication with the mountain, but despite weeks of effort were unable to raise anyone. The jamming signal was a serious risk for the launch, since it would negatively interfere with the exodus ships navigation and guidance systems. However after months of hard work on the part of the Arks engineering and communications teams, they were finally able to block the jamming frequency, enabling the launch to proceed.  
And so on the sixty third unity day, two exodus ships were launched from the Ark and over 2000 Arkers returned to earth, making landfall one hundred kilometers south of what was once Philadelphia. 

A final team, which had included Jane Griffin, remained on the Ark, until both exodus ships had landed and had established contact. The remaining Arkers launched a week later in the last drop shop. This historic event was now celebrated by the Arkadians every year and was known as the day of the final decent. It was one of Clarke’s favourite holidays and ended a week of celebrations for the Arkers. 

Clarke still found herself looking skyward scanning the night sky for a glimpse of the Ark, now silent and deserted destined to hurtle around the earth alone and empty. One day its orbit would degrade and it would burn up on entry in the Earth’s atmosphere. Clarke found the thought oddly comforting.  
It was only a few weeks after the final decent that the Arkers met the first grounders, the Delphikru, a small clan of mainly fur traders, who were luckily not aggressive and who had formed the first alliance with the Arkers. It was through them that the stories of the Maunon, the people who lived inside Mount Weather, were first relayed.. Despite their own experience with the Mt Weather jamming signal, the Arkers were initially dubious about the stories of mass kidnappings and marauding monsters called Ripas, that the grounders said came from the Maunon.

All of this changed after Arker scouting groups meet Trikru warriors. First Contact with Trikru Clan had been very difficult, The Trikru were a warrior clan and highly suspicious of the newcomers, but the council, aided by the Delphikru leadership, had managed to avoid bloodshed. They affirmed that Skaikru had no allegiance or love for the people in Mount Weather and several council members including the newly appointed Jane Griffin, went so far as to make blood oaths to confirm their loyalty to an alliance with Trikru. The Arkers had even agreed to use their technology to survey the Mountain and provide the information gathered to the Trikru leadership. 

This leadership was shrouded in mystery and mysticism and despite the cooperation of their joint survey mission, no Arker ever met the Heda or Commander of Trikru . Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for this joint scouting party to be decimated by acid fog and any surviving members were captured by the Maunon. The last radio communications between the Arkers and the scouting party had clearly implicated the Maunon in their demise.¬  
The Trikru had described the Maunon as always wearing suits and masks and this led the Ark scientists to theorise that the survivors in Mount Weather had not adapted to the higher levels of radiation on the earth’s surface and were therefore unable to move about freely. 

The intel the Arkers received from their scouting team before they disappeared, had ascertained that Philpott Dam provided power to the people living in the mountain. In retaliation for the attack on Trikru and Skaikru, the Arkers sent a force of guards and engineers with explosives to the dam and blew it up.  
Despite several attempts, the Arkers were unable to enter the mountain and after months of no more kidnappings or acid fog attacks, the council assumed that everything was dead inside the mountain. 

Clarke sighed, she wished she could remember her grandmother Jane, she had died when Clarke was three years old. Her Father had told her the story of the final descent and the mountain many times, as she sat on his knee enthralled, she remembered the pride tinged with sadness in his voice whenever he spoke of his mother. She understood now what that sadness felt like, she felt it deeply, whenever she thought of her father. 

Clarke sometimes wondered, about the people who had lived in the mountain, what were they like, did they love and care for their families, how did they die, slowly or quickly, was it now a silent tomb filled with treasures from the old world or did some Maunon survive deep down in the dark? It was a tantalising mystery that Clarke liked to ponder and occasionally wished she could one day solve.

Clarke felt a surge of excitement at the thought of the new mysteries and stories hidden in the journeyman’s book stall. So she spun on her heel and made her way quickly to the cabin she shared with Raven, eager to grab her blue barter bag in the hope of securing herself books. She entered the cabin and located her bag quickly; it was an old world backpack which she had modified by adding fur inside it to protect the contents. Her barter bag held numerous objects, things she had collected around the village and through the forest and plains surrounding Alpha village. 

The hoard consisted of trinkets from the old world, along with crystals and semi-precious stones. The most valuable objects were old world coins and Clarke was proud of the pile she had been able to collect. She had cleaned them with salt and water and dried them in the sun, she pulled them from her bag enjoying the weight of the metal and she smiled to see them shine as she held them in her hand. She told herself that she would only use them as a last resort.

Coins had become a popular currency among the allied clans and the journeymen and women always preferred bartering with them for old world goods. Clarke grabbed the bag and rushed from her hut, more excited than she had been in weeks, today she would finally have new stories.


	3. Market Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 of The Story Teller where Clarke tries to find a bargain and fails

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Clarke tries speaking Trig probably as badly as I attempt to write it..so be kind Trigedasleng experts out there.. 
> 
> ps..Let me know if your still reading

Market Days for the Arkers occurred every week in summer and autumn when harvests were in, but for the rest of the year it could take up to four weeks before stall owners appeared in the square. It was early spring and Clarke hadn’t seen a book trader in more than three months. Clarke slowed her pace as she neared the stalls, adopting what she hoped, was an air of nonchalance. Next to the book trader was a textiles stall and Clarke spent an inordinate amount of time handling the fabrics and furs and humming and nodding to the seller who spoke in rapid fire Trigedasleng, the common tongue of all the clans. 

Clarke threw discrete glances next door, towards the bookcase in the back of the traders stall, her eagerness barely in check. Deciding that she had spent enough time with the textiles trader she turned and walked towards the books, greeting the trader with a smile. He was small, wiry and dark skinned, his clan tattoos even darker on his hands which were now gesturing to the books behind him as he watched her and smiled knowingly. She groaned inwardly, of course he had recognised her, finally throwing all pretence away, she nodded a reluctant greeting at him before dropping to her knees in front of the bookcase.

Clarke ran her fingertips reverently over the book spines, all showing various states of wear and tear, it saddened her to realise that books were a dwindling resource, there had been none printed since the war. Everything on the Ark had been stored digitally and the grounders were semi-literate at best, with only a privileged few able to read.

Clarke’s eyes were drawn to the top shelf where twenty or so hard covered books were displayed. She gently removed a faded blue bound book and opened it carefully. It was a biography of some now unknown celebrity from just before the war, Clarke quickly returned it to the case, she had read one like it before and had been disgusted by the self-obsessed ramblings of the author. Next she pulled out a red bound book that was thick and looked more promising, opening it she realised it was another biography but at least this one was about the authors travels. 

She checked the date on the front page and closed it; Clarke could read anything but she wasn’t interested in the years immediately preceding the war. That world was still too similar to the world of the Ark and she knew much of it from the digital records and history lessons given by Kane.

Her eyes scanned the row until another book caught her eye, she sighed in relief when she pulled out a thick novel. Clarke scanned the synopsis and smiled, it was a fantasy novel, filled with unlikely heroes, warriors and mythical beasts. As she flipped through the pages Clarke could tell it was just the type of story she could easily get lost in. She placed the book to one side and continued her search. The next book she selected was a well-worn paper back. Clarke scanned the synopsis on the back and smiled, the story was set in a post-apocalyptic world where young people were being hunted by savage warriors. She chuckled at the prophetic irony and added the book to her pile.

Clarke took her time checking each book in the case, until finally she had four books in a pile beside her. She was about to stand when she noticed a dark bound book placed on top of the case , reaching for it she opened it and was excited to see it was a history book about female warriors. She flicked though the chapters and gasped at the illustrations which were still vibrant and Clarke realised that it would have been an expensive volume in its day. One image of a woman with wide green eyes caught her attention, it was beautifully drawn and her fingers traced the image. 

She really wanted this book; she looked worriedly at her small pile. She wanted all of them but was unsure whether she would have enough to barter for all five.  
Clarke picked up her pile and approached the seller; he smiled toothily at her as he surveyed the books in her hands. 

“Chit don yu got kom kofon?” He asked her   
Clarke shook her barter bag with a bright smile “os gems en fleimen geld” she said and handed the seller several rocks with a flourish of her wrist.   
He nodded and grunted as he raised 2 fingers and gestured to the books.

“Ok” Clarke sighed, reluctantly pulling out the coins.  
The vendors face immediately lit up, “ahh ait” he smiled at the coins and nodded to Clarke.  
“Ait, de kofon ste odon” he said taking all the coins from Clarke.

“mochof os kofon” she said through gritted teeth, trying to be polite as she picked up the books and left the stall.

Clarke had five new books but no more coins, “oh well” she sighed, “better make them last” she murmured to herself and walked back to her cabin. She placed the books carefully on a bench above her bed and stared at them, she found herself smiling broadly, she had new books, new stories, she had to remind herself that was why she had collected the stones and coins in the first place.

Clarke grabbed one of the books, her water skin and some dried fruit and nuts and with her smile now firmly in place, she headed through the village square and out towards the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigedasleng: (my translations are rough as guts so I apologise in advance)   
> Chit don yu got kom kofon – what do you have to Trade  
> os gems en fleimen geld – good gens and valuable gold  
> ait – ok  
> Ait, de kofon ste odon – ok the trade is done  
> mochof os kofon – thank you good trade


	4. The Storyteller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 of the storyteller Clarke discovers where the Alpha village kids are hanging out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more Trig, I will probably not use much more going forward..

The sun was warm but a light breeze was cooling the air, enough to make her walk through the forest to the stream pleasant. Clarke's gaze settled on a large old oak tree which cast good shade and had a moss covered base, making it perfect for leaning against. Dropping first her water skin and then her body to the ground, Clarke stretched out her legs and closed her eyes for a moment to simply enjoy the anticipation. 

Sighing happily she pulled off her shoes and socks, Clarke wriggled her toes in the soft moss before settling back and opening her first book, warrior women through the ages, she hummed in contentment and began to read.

An hour later Clarke was lying back her eyes closed as she visualised the story of Ng Mui, the Chinese warrior nun and her Shaolin monk kru ,as they fought against evil invaders from the north. She imagined herself saving Ng Mui, knocking out her opponent and receiving praise for her impressive fighting skills. Her pleasant daydream was interrupted by the sound of children’s laughter.  
Clarke frowned as the laughter grew louder.  
“Kids”, Clarke muttered to herself, “so annoying”  
.  
The laughter ceased and Clarke sighed, relieved as she opened her book to start a new chapter. After only a few moments the laughter returned, Clarke tried to ignore it, but her thoughts meandered away from her book and she couldn’t help focus her attention on the loud sporadic laughter followed by odd silences. Clarke strained to hear anything, anything at all between the bursts of laughter, but she could hear nothing in the silent spaces.  
”Weird kids” she said and frowned a little perplexed.

Clarke hated to admit it openly, but she felt uncomfortable around children. On the Ark, there had been a one child per couple policy and as a consequence of this the adults that first made landfall, her parents included, had still been conservative in their reproductive practices having only one or two children and as a consequence of this Clarke was an only child, as were most of her peers, except for the Blake’s.

But the children that had made the decent and the ones born soon after, as adults, had reproduced with reckless abandon. The resulting population boom meant that there were many more children than the Arkers had ever had to deal with before. And although they were schooled for a few hours a day, Arker children were, in the main, left to their own devices.

Whatever they were up to, they were making some serious noise and disturbing Clarke's longed for story time session. She tried to get back to her place in the story only to be pulled out of it again, this time by peals of laughter bordering on hysterical, Clarke frowned worriedly.  
“What the hell are they doing?” Clarke exclaimed, more loudly than she had meant to.

Even though they were not her favourite type of human, Clarke found that she worried about them, after all she did know most of the kids at Alpha Village by name. She had assisted her mother in inoculating each and every one of them. And although the laughter would indicate that they were ok, it was out of the ordinary and away from the village and that wasn’t normal. 

Coming to a decision, Clarke put her shoes and socks back on and strapped the book and her water skin on to her back. She closed her eyes, focusing on the sounds, pinpointing the direction the laughter was coming from and casting a regretful glance back at her tree, she turned and headed towards the sounds.  
As she grew closer, Clarke instinctively slowed her movements, making less noise herself. She paused gathering her bearings; she could now distinguish individual voices in the mix. She paused in her movements during a period of silence and strained to hear, there was a single voice, now finally discernible. A woman’s voice, she realised. The heretofore soft voice suddenly shouted and the kids squealed in response. Clarke moved more cautiously towards the sounds confused by the odd dynamic between the voice and the children’s responses.

Clarke continued to move forward, she could now hear the woman’s voice clearly, Clarke was surprised that the woman was speaking Trigedasleng. All Arkers were encouraged to learn the language of the clans and for the first time, the children were actually being taught it at school. Teaching it had proven difficult to begin with, since the clans had no written language and only warriors seemed to understand English or gonasleng as they called it.

The Arkers had persevered, working with Delphikru to learn the language and then developing a dictionary, from this base the language was now being taught to Arker children. Clearly they had learned well Clarke thought as she listened to the clear responses they gave to the melodic yet animated voice belonging to the unknown woman. Clarke was now desperate to catch a peak of the mystery woman, her own rudimentary understanding of the language frustrating her, as she began to distinguish the woman’s words. 

Clarke approached a small clearing carefully, she could make out a dark shape, the speaker presumably, Clarke thought. The woman’s back was turned towards Clarke and she was facing about ten or twelve Arker children, all seated in a semicircle around her. Their faces were staring up at the speaker in awe.

As Clarke listened carefully utilising what little Trigedasleng she knew, she realised that the woman was telling the children a story. Sinking slowly to her knees, Clarke crept on all fours towards the group, keeping her body low, hoping to avoid discovery. The story seemed to revolve around two children a clueless bear and a swarm of angry bees. 

Clarke moved carefully around the group, trying to reach an area that would present her with a view of the woman without disturbing her or interrupting her story.

Clarke crawled and listened to the woman speak, her voice was soft and yet oddly powerful, from the glimpses she had of her hand gestures and intensity, Clarke could tell she was enjoying telling her story to the audience of enthralled children. Clarke took stock of her position before slinking towards a large boulder directly behind the children which formed a natural border for the clearing and the forest beyond it. 

Clarke squirmed behind the rock into a natural alcove and smiled as she discovered a long crevice in the rock. Easing herself directly behind the crevice Clarke peered eagerly through it. As she surveyed the scene before her, Clarke drew in a surprised breath as her gaze fell upon the storyteller as she sat in front of the children. The woman was singularly striking. ‘

She was young, Clarke surmised, Close to her own age, but maybe a little taller and thinner; her fingers were long and animated moving constantly as she gesticulated with her hands. Her hair was chestnut brown, long and braided intricately, in contrast, her dark clothes were very worn and Clarke could see tears and frays in the cloth. A leather vest covered her torso and a leather belt with metal inlays was slung across her chest and held a rubber guard on her left shoulder. Unlike the fabric the leather and metal looked well cared for and Clarke wondered if they held special meaning for the woman. Under a sleeveless black shirt the woman’s thin wiry arms were exposed and Clarke could make out the dark lines of a tattoo on her upper right arm, Clarke wondered curiously if she had more. 

But it was the woman’s face that had elicited such surprise from Clarke. The storyteller was beautiful; Clarke had never seen anyone that stunning before. Her eyes were large and unusual; Clarke could see the bright green colour of them contrasting brightly against the thick dark kohl outlining them. They looked oddly familiar to Clarke and she found herself mesmerised. Quickly and quietly Clarke settled into her observation post and focused all her attention on the woman and the story that she was telling.

As Clarke concentrated on the story in Trigedasleng she noticed that the storyteller was also using a smattering of English throughout. This surprised her, gonasleng was the warrior language and the woman sitting in the dirt before her, in tattered clothing and clearly needing a good meal or ten, was no warrior. And yet she obviously understood English, answering the children’s questions in their own language. The storyteller’s responses were clear and concise and nothing like the broken English the journeymen and traders used. 

The story came to an abrupt end with the protagonists and the bear covered in mud and amicably sharing the spoils of war, in this case, honey. The children all clapped and laughed and the storyteller smiled, reaching for her water skin and drinking long and slow. 

Once the storyteller had quenched her thirst, she began telling her audience about the next story, her tone had changed and become serious, her voice hushed, she began in earnest. The new story concerned the character Becca who it appeared was PramHeda or first Commander and how she single handedly saved the survivors of pramfaya, the great destruction, that had destroyed most life on earth and left Clarke's antecedents stranded in space. Clarke found herself more and more intrigued by the storyteller as well as by her story.

“Becca slip daun kom skai” The storyteller said and Clarke sat up straighter, it appeared that Becca had come from the stars, just as the Arkers had. This fact not only peeked Clarke’s curiosity more, but also excited the storyteller’s young audience very much. 

Hands and voices were raised immediately with eager questions being shouted out.  
“Was Becca from the Skaikru?”  
“Did she come down in a drop ship?”  
“Did Becca have pets?” a little girl shrieked excitedly. 

Clarke covered her mouth to avoid the chuckle leaving her lips.

The storyteller smiled but raised her hand imperiously, her action silencing the children immediately.  
“The means by which Becca PramHeda arrived on the ground are a great secret and are now only known to a special initiated few” the storyteller intoned.  
A series of disappointed groans erupted from the gathered children and Clarke groaned internally in sympathy. The storytellers hand shot up again and the children silenced.

“However” the storyteller practically whispered as she leaned forward conspiratorially meeting each child’s gaze intensely.  
“I might be willing to let you all in on this secret if...” Here the storyteller paused dramatically; the children drew in a collective breath, waiting.  
The storyteller intoned seriously “you all agree not to tell anyone this story and you must return here tomorrow at the same time.” The storyteller paused lifting her chin and glaring down at the children, before continuing. “Only then will I tell you”  
The children were silent staring up at the storyteller with wide eyes.  
“Do you all agree to these terms goufa?”  
Several murmurs of agreement rose from the children. The storyteller raised her chin again, daring the children to disobey her., Clarke smirked, obviously none of them would.  
“Swear it” the storyteller hissed.  
“Sha Heda” the children spoke as one.

The storyteller smiled widely all trace of the intimidating Heda now gone, “os mochoff yongon, that’s excellent.  
I will be here tomorrow, waiting for you all. don’t be late.”  
She clapped her hands and then waved at her audience. “ait, ste pleni, yo bants nau, bants” she laughed at their grumbling, and gesticulated to them dramatically “off, off you go.”

The children struggled to their feet clearly reluctant to leave but just as clearly not prepared to argue the point with the storyteller. Clarke remained silent peering at the woman through her spy hole, content to wait for all the children to leave. She found herself wondering where the other woman was going to spend the night when she left the clearing.

It was obvious to Clarke that this was not the first storytelling session the woman and children had been involved in. She wondered idly if anyone else new about it. Clarke assumed not, no one had mentioned anything about a wandering bard entertaining the pre-pubescent population of Alpha village.  
Clarke felt a sliver of anxiety for a moment, should she tell the council, was this something they should be made aware of? 

She frowned as she watched the storyteller pack up the furs she had been sitting on. Clarke observed her critically, she didn’t appear to be dangerous, if anything she appeared frail, exhausted even, she seemed to struggle a little getting to her feet, maybe she was ill, Clarke thought.  
Clarke felt a sudden wave of pity for the storyteller and almost stood up, ready to reveal herself to the other woman to offer her assistance, but a stronger instinct warned her that this young woman would resent pity.

So instead Clarke kept her silent vigil, watching as the storyteller arched her back and stretched and cracked her neck and Clarke grimaced in sympathy. The other girl threw the furs over her back and tied them around herself. She slung a leather bag over her right shoulder and a water skin over the other. Finally the storyteller lifted a wooden staff that had lain beside her on the ground and leaned slightly against it as she stood silently for a moment. 

Clarke watched a little unnerved as the other woman raised her chin slightly and her eyes seemed to sharpen and narrow as she looked around the small clearing. Clarke didn’t blink for fear of making a sound as she watched the storyteller scan the clearing before nodding once, spinning on her heel and quickly disappearing into the tree line.

Clarke let out a breath she hadn’t realised she had been holding, for a moment she had felt the storytellers eyes on hers. But she knew it wasn’t possible, the crevice in the boulder was slight and deep. Clarke stood and moved around to the front of her hiding spot just to be sure and sighed in relief, the crevice was deep and the alcove Clarke hid in was dark, she could not be seen.

“Excellent” Clarke muttered to herself, she would return tomorrow but arrive much earlier, she could keep an eye on the kids and make sure the storyteller really was as benign as she appeared. It was her duty, after all, to check up on the safety of the kids, she could then decide whether to inform the council about the storyteller or not. She smirked to herself and that meant of course that she could get to hear the rest of the Becca story. 

Clarke made her way slowly back towards the village and congratulated herself on deciding on her course of action. As she walked through the forest she became aware of the shadows lengthening as the sun began to set and she couldn’t ignore the excitement in her belly. 

The more she thought of the day to come, the more her excitement grew. She would get to hear the continuing story of Becca while watching the face of the beautiful storyteller again. Clarke smiled as she adjusted her back pack, the story book nestled at the bottom of it, all but forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigedasleng: well an attempt at translation..
> 
> Becca pramheda – Becca first commander  
> Becca slip daun kom skai – Becca fell from the skai  
> Goufa - Children  
> os mochoff yongon - good thankyou young ones.  
> ait, ste pleni, yo bants nau – OK that’s enough you go now
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Soooo...Finally the storyteller is revealed, I was going to post these 4 chapters individually, but as I read them together I decided that I wanted to introduce the storyteller before breaking till chapter 5.
> 
> let me know what you think....


	5. The Tale of Becca

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke spies on the storyteller and gets to hear the story of Becca and learns about night blood..
> 
> Thanks for the lovely comments and support, I very much appreciate them.

Clarke slept well that night, her dreams soft and warm, leaving her in a good mood, when she woke at dawn, she stretched and then washed. She smirked at the soft snores emanating from her cabin mate, debating briefly whether she should wake Raven or let her sleep in, she took pity on her friend and decided to leave quietly, heading out of the cabin into the still dark morning.

There was a chill in the air this early and Clarke moved quickly towards the subdued light coming from the mess hall. She smiled at the kitchen staff and took a bowl from the bench, serving herself a ladle of cooked grains, adding milk and a handful of berries. 

She sat at a bench and quickly ate her meal. She was planning her day ahead, thoughts of the storyteller foremost in her mind, she felt the excitement grow inside her and she was suddenly eager to get moving, she stood and placed her bowl and spoon in the tubs provided where they would be collected and cleaned later. She grabbed a few apples on her way out of the mess hall and made her way quickly towards the village square.

“Hey Clarke”, she gasped a little startled as she turned, before smiling, as Finn and Harper greeted her.  
“Hey guys, ready to head off?” she asked them, she tossed each an apple and bit into her own.  
“Thanks Princess” Finn smirked devouring the apple in three large bites.  
“No Finn,No, you know I hate that name” Clarke grumbled as Finn simply shrugged.

Clarke took Harpers arm, while deliberately ignoring Finns outstretched one, they walked quietly towards the tool shed where they gathered tools, shouldered their rakes, shovels and picks and took off towards the gardens.

Many hours later the sun was high overhead and the late spring air warm on Clarke’s skin, as she took a moment and stretched her aching back and thighs. She had spent six hours planting and weeding it was hard work, but rewarding, she reminded herself, as she cast her eye over the rows of seedlings. She walked to the well and used the foot pump raven had designed to raise the water. She filled a watering can and began watering the seedlings.  
“Hey Princess”  
Clarke groaned, “Don’t be a dick Finn”  
“Sorry, Clarke” Finn smiled and then shook his floppy hair like a dog, droplets of sweat flying around him with several landing on Clarke.  
“Urggh, Finn, really” Clarke groaned in disgust.  
“Hey its hot and its knock off time, come on Clarke time to head home.” Finn said picking up the water can and pouring the remains over his head, shaking his head again.  
“Finn” Clarke yelled exasperated. “Just go”  
“Fine, keep your pants on princess” he smirked winking at her, “hey Harper wanna head back with me?” Finn wiggled his dirty fingers towards Harper.  
“Sure, but keep your hands and hair to yourself.” Harper said, picking up her pick and shovel. “Clarke, you coming?” Harper asked.  
Clarke smiled at Harper, “I’ll finish up here and come in later, Hey Finn take my shovel with you” Clarke said, throwing the tool at Finn not caring if he caught it or not..  
“Hey, temper much” he joked as he grabbed the shovel bare inches in front of his face.

She sighed in relief as she watched the two of them head back to Alpha. Clarke looked up at the sun, shielding her eyes, she estimated it was just past noon, that meant she had just enough time to clean up and then head around the back of village and down to the storytellers clearing, hopefully before the kids or the storyteller arrived. 

Clarke grabbed her pack and water and started off across the fields towards the trees which ran to the east of the village.  
Entering the forest, Clarke felt the excitement grow in her body and she moved more quickly, she had been looking forward to this afternoon all morning and couldn’t wait to get to her boulder. Clarke had packed apples, nuts and dried berries for lunch and she hoped to get to her observation post to relax, eat and wait in peace. 

As Clarke approached the clearing she slowed down and dropped to her knees and waited, training her senses on the small space ahead. She couldn’t see anything, so she closed her eyes and tried to ascertain whether or not the storyteller had arrived.

Clarke couldn’t hear a thing beyond the normal rustlings of the forest, so she inched forward until she had an unobstructed view of the clearing.  
Casting her eyes around, she smiled, the clearing was deserted, keeping low to the ground Clarke moved quickly and quietly around the clearing until she made it to her boulder. She appraised her hiding spot, evaluating it carefully. She had been lucky in her choice; the boulder completely obscured the small open space behind it, while several bushes grew along the forest border directly behind it.

To enter the alcove you had to crawl underneath a bush as Clarke had done. Clarke hummed in satisfaction, if she stayed low and kept quiet, Clarke was confident no one would know she was there.  
With one last glance over the clearing, Clarke dropped down and crawled into her hiding place. The ground was covered in a thick layer of leaf litter and Clarke pulled her jumper from her pack and stretched it out, she sat on it making herself comfortable.

Clarke sighed contentedly and stretched her legs out, taking a long swig from her water skin before starting on her lunch. When finished she placed the back pack under her head and closed her eyes enjoying the quiet and the suns warmth, as it played over her face through the dappled foliage that covered her alcove.

Clarke opened her eyes in shock. “Shit” she had dozed off. “Stupid” she hissed at herself.  
She scrambled up to her knees quickly her hands moved to the boulder and she peered through the crevice to get a view of the clearing. She released a small sigh of relief; the storyteller had arrived and was covering the ground with furs. The children were absent.

Clarke watched entranced as the storyteller completed arranging the furs and settled herself cross legged on top of them. The storyteller closed her eyes and lifted her chin slightly, she took a deep breath and released it slowly through her nose as her hands fell to the tops of her knees, palms facing upwards, her countenance composed and serene. 

Clarke watched her, completely fascinated, she found herself wondering who the woman was, what clan was she from, did she have family, was she alone, how long had she been traveling, how long had she been coming here?  
Clarke wondered whether she should interrogate one of the kids once she was back home. Suddenly the storyteller’s eyes snapped open and Clarke stifled her gasp as the green eyes seemed to flash towards her. She held her breath and then she heard it, the laughter and shouts of a dozen children crashing towards the clearing. 

Clarke watched as the storyteller’s mouth formed the barest of smiles and her green eyes sparkled with humour.  
The storyteller remained silent and composed as the children arrived and loudly began jostling each other to get to the front positions. Only once they had settled and raised their eyes to the storyteller expectantly, did she finally greet them. 

“ Hey ya yongon” she said warmly Clarke noticed that her voice was soft yet strong.  
“Hey ya Heda” the children sang out in unison, Clarke smirked, they were almost cute she conceded.  
“Ste yo ogud yongon?” The storyteller asked, one eyebrow raised in mock sternness  
“Sha Heda” the children sang in unison, the youngest were practically screaming in excitement as they bounced up and down.  
“Shhhh” the storyteller shushed the children “ what I am about to tell you is a great secret.”  
The storyteller told them her face serious. “yo souda bilaik stelt goufa” she told them.

Clarke watched the heads of the children nod at the command to be secretive and frowned a little. The thought that the storyteller could be manipulating the kids to be secretive did not sit well with Clarke. 

‘They are just stories’, she thought to herself, ‘there is nothing to worry about. The storyteller is doing all this for dramatic effect’. Clarke shrugged off her doubts and continued her observations.  
The storyteller nodded her head once, solemnly then closing her eyes she raised her hands above her head and spoke.  
“For many years Becca PramHeda lived in the sky and although she was surrounded by Skaikru, Becca was alone. For Becca was special, Becca was unique in all the world” The storyteller paused and dropped her arms stretching them out towards the children. “Becca was the first of her kind, Becca was a Natblida a night blood”

Clarke grew excited, ‘Night blood, what the hell was that’ she wondered.  
“Heda Lexa” a small blonde haired boy asked, hand raised.  
‘Lexa huh’ Clarke smirked to herself, liking the name immediately and surprised the storyteller had revealed it to the children.  
“Yes Peter?” The storyteller asked the boy, surprising Clarke again this time with her knowledge of the boy’s name. Just how long has this been going on, she thought?  
“What is night blood?” Peter asked. 

Lexa raised herself slightly, her shoulders moved up and back and her chin lifted higher, her bearing had become almost regal. “Night blood, is rare and precious, it is black like the night and it is this blood that separates the commanders from all others” 

“How do you get it, could I get it?” a girl asked her voice betraying her excitement.  
Lexa smiled sadly at the girl, “You must be born with it Sara” she looked around at the clearly confused children. “ait, have you ever cut or hurt yourself so that you bled?” She asked them, and there were murmurs and nods. “who hasn’t?” Lexa queried. She nodded slightly at the silence.

“Yongons, you would know already if you had night blood.” Lexa smiled at the subdued faces, “Beja, be happy you do not have it yongons, for a natblida does not live a long nor a happy life”

Clarke grimaced, ok looks like this story is a tragedy, she groaned inwardly, Clarke preferred uplifting fantasy with happy endings for the protagonists. But she was here and couldn’t easily leave, so she may as well stay and hear about this night bleeding Becca person. 

She had to admit that Lexa the storyteller had a pretty vivid imagination. Black blood, seriously who would come up with that? She concentrated again as Lexa continued the story.

“Becca lived in the sky, but she was set apart from her people and they hated her because she was different. Becca was wracked with pain and guilt for she had done a terrible thing.”  
“Becca swore to herself that she would redeem herself and right a terrible wrong. But to do so she must leave her people and travel a long and dangerous path.”  
Here Lexa paused and watched her entranced audience for a moment before continuing then intoned solemnly. “Becca PramHeda must fall from the sky to the ground” 

The children let out collective ooh’s and ahhs and Sara who Clarke recognised as Harpers youngest sister, spoke up. “Did Becca live on the Ark Heda?”  
The storyteller looked seriously at Sara. “That I do not know Sara.”  
She paused and looked around the small group.  
“Have any of you heard of Becca, from your stories about the Ark and pramfaya?” She asked them.

Clarke was surprised at the question but more so by the intensity with which the storyteller waited for an answer. Clarke frowned, why was Lexa so invested in an answer? surely this was all just a story. Clarke new the Ark stories better than most people and there was no Becca PramHeda in any of them. 

She certainly hadn’t heard of any stories regarding guilt ridden women falling from the Ark. Although she had heard of a handful of death-by-ground suicides, but none of those seemed to gel with the character Lexa described.

The Children had obviously come to similar conclusions and they all shook their heads or spoke out in the negative.  
The storyteller, nodded slowly, clearly disappointed, which confused Clarke even more.  
“What was the terrible thing Becca did Heda?” Peter asked cautiously.

The storyteller tipped her head to the left immediately endearing herself to Clarke again, who tried not to think too much about that and waited for Lexa to speak. Lexa sighed deeply before answering. 

“Always such direct questions, Peter” The storyteller smiled at the boy and once more Clarke felt a thread of anxiety trickle through her gut. ‘Just how long had this woman been here, telling stories?’ Clarke pondered and once again she toyed with the idea of contacting the council and informing them of the woman’s presence. She starred at the other woman feeling torn.  
She concentrated again on the scene before her once she realised that the storyteller was answering Peter.

“Becca had created a monster a monster like no other, an earth killer, it was Becca’s monster that ended the world. It was Beccas monster that brought the PramFaya that destroyed the world that had been before.”  
Clarke watched as the storyteller closed her eyes, her eyes moving rapidly behind her lids. Then she opened them again and smiled sadly at the shocked and silent children. 

“Sha yongon” she nodded to them “It was Becca PramHeda’s fault that the old world was destroyed. And it was the guilt that Becca felt in her heart and her spirit that meant she had to fall to the ground to save the people who had survived there.” 

“Becca arrived in the area near Polis the capital city of the Trigedekru and she gathered the survivors and from these she chose twelve strong, wise and compassionate warriors. She told them that they must be fearless, that they were charged with gathering the survivors of PramFaya together, teaching them to thrive and giving them a gift that would save humanity. It was in this way that they would remove the stain of Becca’s crime.” 

The storyteller paused here and unsurprisingly Clarke watched as Peters hand shot up. “What was the gift heda?” He asked.  
Clarke waited, Lexa appeared suddenly unsure and Clarke frowned wondering if she had run out of inspiration. Clarke watched Lexa intently, willing her to answer. As if coming to a hard decision the storyteller nodded sharply once and spoke. 

“Becca wished to make them as special as she was and so she gave each of the twelve warriors the gift of jus a gift of blood a gift of night blood” She whispered the last words in a tone that sent a shiver down Clarkes spine and must have created similar experiences in the children who let out a series of oohs and soft cries. 

“What does the night blood do Heda, what makes it special.” A little girl asked, Clarke couldn’t remember her name.  
The storyteller leant towards the little girl, a hint of a smile touched her lips and once again Clarke found herself mesmerised by the woman. ‘She is so beautiful’ Clarke thought and she had to shake herself to refocus on the conversation. 

“Shanti, thank you for asking” Lexa said gently.  
“Ahh” Clarke murmured, ‘That’s it Shanti, Sinclair’s daughter’ Clarke nodded to herself a little ashamed she had forgotten.  
The storyteller raised her eyes to the group and answered the question. “Nat Jus, gives the gift of wisdom, courage, compassion and strength. Natblida rarely suffer illness, and recover from injuries quickly.” The storyteller paused again before continuing, Clarke again felt that Lexa was unsure whether to continue with this story. 

“But its most important attribute is that only night blood can sustain the spirit of the Commander and so each natblida has the potential to hold the spirit of every Heda that has ever lived” Again she paused before continuing. “Including Becca PramHeda” 

The children were silent for a moment absorbing this information. Clarke was impressed; this story involved some serious cosmological thinking. She had already picked up on the 12 clans and 12 original natblida link that Lexa had made and Clarke could see how the story could easily be used to justify the leadership of certain groups over others. But black blood, well that was a nice touch, pushing the entire story into mythology. She stared at the storyteller amazed at the mind behind her incredible eyes.

“Are you a natblida Heda?” Sara asked quietly smiling shyly at Lexa. “you are our Heda after all”  
Clarke watched curiously as the storytellers eyes closed and a sudden sense of sadness pervaded her. She opened her eyes and that small almost smile graced her lips and Clarke felt a physical ache as she watched the other woman.

The Storyteller looked around her and then spoke quietly, her tone serious. “I am your Heda yongon, but only of stories. There are no more natblidas.”  
Here she paused and Clarke was fascinated as she watched Lexa’s throat contract as she swallowed hard. 

“The gift Becca gave was spread through the clans from the original 12 and many Natblida were born, some were given the spirit of the commander, many more did not.” The Storyteller closed her eyes for a moment, sighing before continuing.

“Once it was a great honour to be born with Becca’s gift, and Natblida were revered and respected by all, but overtime some commanders exploited their power and corrupted the gift, while others became weak and did the bidding of cruel clan leaders. Finally being born Natblida was seen as a curse and not a gift but a tool to be used by evil people to bring suffering to the clans. Natblida were hunted or locked away children born with the blood are hidden or left in the woods a shame to their families.” The children gasped in horror and Clarke frowned at the dark turn the story had taken.

Again Lexa paused, her head lowered slightly and she sighed deeply, before slowly looking up once again to meet the eyes of the children and she smiled a sad, almost smile. Clarke felt the pain in that smile and wondered what truth lay behind the story to cause it.

“Maybe one day yongon, there will come one who is worthy, a Natblida who will survive and grow to be proud and fearless and brave enough to be worthy of Becca’s gift and lead the people honourably once again.” Lexa’s unfocused gaze seemed to rest on Clarke for a moment and Clarke shivered at the thought that she might actually see her. 

The children were staring at Lexa in awe, she had made them laugh and scream and now she had stripped them of speech. Though many couldn’t quite grasp the stories concepts, all of them could feel the sadness emanating from the storyteller. Clarke wasn’t surprised when she heard a sniffle, followed by another. Soon several children were crying and wiping their eyes. Clarke watched as the storyteller came back to the present, her gaze shifting back to the children. 

“no, beja yongon disha jos sontaim noumou. Its just a story, please don’t cry” She said clearly distressed that she had caused such a reaction.

Clarke watched amazed, as Lexa moved quickly forward, her hands reaching out, gently touching the cheeks and heads of the children, she smiled at them and cajoled them, tickling and even laughing with them until they responded to her in kind. 

Clarke’s heart felt so full it actually hurt, as she watched the mysterious and intriguing storyteller smiling as she tickled Shanti until she was crying again but this time with laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigedasleng - again apologies for my poor attempts  
> Hey ya yongon – Hello Young one/s  
> yo souda bilaik stelt goufa – you must be secretive children  
> no, beja yongon disha jos sontaim noumou – no please, its just a story nothing more.


	6. Gathering Intel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke becomes obsessed and finds out more about the storyteller

The days and weeks passed becoming longer and warmer as spring days lengthened into summer ones.  
Every day after completing work with her mother in the infirmary or working in the gardens, Clarke would make her way to the storytellers clearing, her lunch in hand and ready to spend the warm afternoon listening to stories. Sometimes she stared at Lexa through the crevice incapable of looking away and other times she lay on her back, eyes closed, lost in the storyteller’s voice and words. 

Every day Clarke fell more and more under the spell of the storyteller. Clarke had initially fought it but now she had stopped trying and had accepted her reaction to Lexa.

The storyteller was like a tragic heroine from a Gothic romance, she was perfect, absolutely perfect for Clarke. When Clarke first realised her infatuation, she had groaned inwardly at the knowledge. The mysterious Lexa was made for Clarke. Clarke, who was bored to death by her predictable day to day existence, finding her escape from the mundane in books, fairy tales and day dreams.

But here now before her very eyes, was a real, living breathing mystery. Clarke was addicted; she had felt her heart racing in her chest as she acknowledged her helpless attraction to the storyteller and all that she symbolised.

She hadn’t planned it, it was just something that she felt compelled to do and so after the third week, Clarke had started leaving gifts for the storyteller, placing them where she would usually sit and tell her stories. Clarke greatly desired to personally connect with Lexa but was too intimidated to make her presence known. So she started giving the storyteller gifts. A few little things to start with, dried fruits and nuts, fresh berries, then cheese and fresh bread.

But soon as she felt more confident, Clarke’s gifts to Lexa became more extravagant, long socks, leather gloves, a soft linen black shirt and a warm woven blanket. When Clarke noticed that the storytellers water skin was looking worn, she placed a new one on the spot where the storyteller always set her furs. Clarke would place the gifts and hide in her alcove and wait to see Lexa’s reaction.

When Lexa first noticed the gifts, she had looked puzzled, picking up the gift and looking around quickly. Then after a moment she smiled her almost smile and set the gift beside her water skin, later wrapping it up in her furs at the end of her story telling session. 

When Lexa accepted the first gift, Clarke had to smother a cry of joy, she was so ecstatic, she finally had a connection with the storyteller, even if Lexa didn’t know she existed, she had accepted Clarke's gift. From that moment onward Clarke collected barter goods, not to buy books, but so she could provide the storyteller with treats and gifts 

Clarke spent hours imagining what Lexa did with her gifts, was Lexa eating the treats she left her or covering herself with the blanket on cold nights, trying on the clothes she left for her. Clarke spent every idle moment thinking about the storyteller, she tried to imagine where the storyteller lived, was she in a hut, or a cave, did she sleep under the stars wrapped in her furs. 

The day that Lexa removed her heavy black coat to reveal the black short sleeved shirt Clarke had left for her a week earlier, was the day Clarke had to treat her hand for the bite she had inflicted on herself to keep from yelling out her elation.

Her fascination with the storyteller was bordering on obsessive but despite her unhealthy preoccupation with the other woman Clarke was committed to gathering more information about Lexa. Short of revealing herself to the other woman which Clarke was absolutely unprepared to do, she realised that her next best source of Intel was from one of the kids. She decided on either Peter or Sara, they were the oldest and seemed the most comfortable with Lexa. As she thought about the two kids she decided on approaching Peter rather than Sara. 

Clarke was worried that Sara might mention something to Harper and Clarke wanted to keep her knowledge of the storyteller a secret for now. She thought long and hard on how she could approach Peter with questions he would answer truthfully but would hide her actual agenda. 

An opportunity arose unexpectedly when Clarke was assisting Abby in the infirmary early one morning, Clarke was resetting a broken arm, when Peter was dropped off by his mother.

“He’s been complaining about stomach pain all night” she explained to Clarke as Abby continued working on the broken arm.  
“Vomiting, diarrhoea?” Clarke asked the boy

Peter shook his head vigorously and flushed clearly embarrassed. Peters mother scoffed at his reaction and shook her head at Clarke, “I’m leaving him here, I have to get to the hydro plant and I can’t be late, we have a major problem that needs repairing today.” She said as she headed for the door.  
“yep sure, ok” Clarke stammered, at the woman’s retreating back, Peters mother was clearly a driven woman

She turned towards Peter who was standing looking lost and embarrassed, she leant down smiling at him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.  
“ So Peter, how about we get you a bunk and I will take a look at you” she smiled reassuringly at him.  
“ok sure” he murmured. 

Clarke led him to a spare bunk and helped him lie down. She checked his temperature, blood pressure and heart rate. He seemed ok  
“Are you still in pain” she asked him, he shook his head. “Where was the pain, show me” she said gently and he pointed to the centre left of his abdomen. Clarke pushed gently around the area, “tell me if this hurts” Clarke asked him. 

His body felt warm but not unusually, and nothing felt abnormal or swollen.  
“How about I give you something to drink and you stay here for a little while just so we can make sure you’re ok” Clarke asked. 

The boy frowned. “I can leave?” he asked clearly surprised.  
“In a little while, if you’re feeling ok, you can attend lessons if you’re not in pain.” Clarke said handing him a cup of water.

Clarke watched the boy carefully while he sipped the water she had handed to him, he didn’t appear to be ill, but she had found that kids would often be sick one minute and fine the next.

“Did you eat anything out of the ordinary last night” She asked him.  
“No” he said shaking his head.  
“Fruit or nuts maybe?: she asked him  
“I had some green gages” He said and looked at her expectantly.  
“How many did you have” she asked not seeing a connection between the plums and his stomach pains.  
“ahh probably a dozen” Peter smiled at her.  
“Well no wonder you had stomach pain, don’t eat so many next time ok” She smiled at him, ruffling his light brown hair.

She asked him to stay put for a moment while she checked in with Abby and the broken bone case.  
When she returned she had some water, which she handed to Peter.  
“Here drink this slowly” she said,  
“You can leave when you’re done and catch up with the others in class” she paused watching the boy closely before adding carefully.  
“Don’t worry you won’t miss Heda’s story” she almost whispered to him.

His eyes widened and he looked around worriedly.  
“It’s ok, I won’t tell anyone” she said softly trying to be as reassuring as she could. “I promise” she added remembering Lexa had sworn the kids to secrecy.  
He looked at her suspiciously,  
"I swear it” she said solemnly.

Peter continued to stare at her, clearly not about to reveal anything.  
‘Smart Kid’ Clarke thought as she returned his stare before realising she would have to change tactics.

“Peter, I know you all meet her in the clearing just north of the stream, I haven’t said anything to anyone and I hadn’t planned to.” Here she paused and studied the boy adding a serious tone to her voice. “However, if she does anything to hurt any of you, I will report her to the council.” She stood as if intending to leave, and Peter finally spoke.

“Please don’t say anything, she isn’t going to hurt us. truly, she wouldn’t” He looked at her his eyes pleading.  
Keeping her expression solemn Clarke sat next to the boy, inwardly elated.. “How can you be sure Peter, how long have you been seeing her?” She asked him.  
He looked around to make sure no one could hear before continuing quietly. “She came just before winter. She said she had traveled from the north and needed a place to rest for a while and keep warm” He paused and glared up at Clarke. “and she wouldn’t hurt us, she is too honourable and noble and good.” Peter stated forcefully.

Clarke’s eyes widened at the revelation. Lexa had arrived four months before Clarke had first seen her. She frowned at the glare the boy cast at her, he clearly trusted the storyteller. 

“Ok Peter, I won’t say anything” she said giving him a small smile  
Peter sighed obviously relieved,  
“But only if” here she paused for effect and watched as his face showed his alarm.  
“You don’t say anything to anyone that I know” She said meeting his eyes.  
“I won’t” He said clearly confused.  
“Swear it” She said echoing the tone of the storyteller.  
“I swear” he said, looking at her with all the earnestness of childhood oath making.

She would have scoffed if she hadn’t come to realise, through his endless questions to Lexa, that Peter was completely sincere.  
“Ok Peter.” She stood and looked down at him, “you feel ok now?” she asked  
“I do” he said sitting up.

“OK then, off you go, when you see your mother tell her I said you were fit to leave” she said. He jumped from the bed and headed for the door, stopping suddenly and turning to face her.  
“Thank you” he said, “for not telling” and with that he left.

Clarke watched him go, feeling an unexpected warmth in her chest for the boy partially due to his obvious loyalty to Lexa. She wasn’t done with him yet though, she had many questions to ask him about the storyteller and she would make sure that Peter provided the answers.

She returned to her hut, hours after the story teller had left her clearing, she was exhausted.  
Clarke declined Ravens offer to have dinner with her and Bel, preferring instead to spend the time alone writing up the the days events. She opened the old world book she had hidden under her mattress, It wasnt really a dossier, she told herself, she had just begun jotting down the storytellers stories, soon after her first encounter with the Lexa. It was more like a journal she told herself.

She had listed every story, all the names, places, in fact everything Lexa had revealed in her sessions with the children. Clarke had recently begun adding drawings, to the book, the storytellers eyes, her clothes the tattoo on her arm. 

Clarke methodically recorded in detail her interview with Peter, adding everything he had said about Lexa.  
Once completed she read the last entry and nodded to herself, content that she had captured it accurately. 

She placed the book back under her mattress, blew out the candle and went to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave your comments, I love reading them, are you enjoying this? is any one actually reading it LOL


	7. Lazy Days

Clarke lay in the dappled afternoon sunlight, chewing on nuts as she listened to Lexa’s melodic voice, its warmth and amusement wrapping around her heart and filling her to the brim with the simple joy of hearing a good story beautifully told. 

It had been a thrilling and amusing story about a giant creature called a pauna, which Clarke thought sounded very much like a gorilla. The beast had terrorised a village for months, numerous brave warriors had been defeated by it. Until a brave and resourceful youth and his band of ridiculously useless but well-meaning friends, somehow managed to trap the monster and save the village.

Clarke found herself chuckling before she could stop herself and almost chocked on a walnut, she slapped a hand over her mouth and stayed perfectly still, listening intently. She hoped she only imagined the pause in the storytellers voice, but held her breath in case, swallowing hard around the nut that threatened to make her cough. 

She was saved by the raucous laughter of the children and she quickly took the opportunity to take a long drink from her water skin. That was too close she chastised herself, no more eating on your back you idiot, she cursed her stupidity and threw the remaining nuts into her back pack. She was just about to settle back down when she noticed that the kids where saying good bye to Lexa. 

She looked up at the sky and realised it was late afternoon she felt disappointed that the day was once more done. She raised herself up until she was kneeling in front of the crevice and watched as the last of the children waved goodbye and the storyteller began her pack up ritual. 

Clarke watched the other woman intensely as she picked up the bag of walnuts Clarke had left for her and smiled as she watched Lexa roll it up into her furs, relishing the small almost smile that graced her face as she did so. It made almost choking on the damn things worth it, Clarke thought, as she watched the storyteller sowly straighten and stretch her arms over her head. 

Clarke shamelessly allowed her eyes to snap to the sudden display of skin as Lexa’s shirt lifted with her movements. She really should look away, she chastised herself and allow the storyteller her privacy, she frowned at the thought and immediately closed her eyes to try and do just that. Clarke could hear slight movement in the clearing but couldn’t make out what Lexa might be doing. 

The temptation to open her eyes was proving too great for Clarke then suddenly she opened them in shock. The storyteller was speaking.  
"Thank you, for the gifts,” Lexa said

Clarke's eyes widened as she stared through the crevice at the storyteller, holding her breath as she watched the other woman look around the clearing for a moment before nodding once and then turning on her heel and leaving.

“Holy shit” she murmured once Lexa had disappeared. A world of possibilities flooded Clarke's mind, did Lexa know she was there? If she did how? Did Peter tell her? Surely he wouldn’t?Clarke took a calming breath and slowly gathered her things before crawling out of the alcove.

She stood in the clearing for a moment, her eyes wandering over to where the storyteller had been seated and she noticed a small leather bag. She looked around, listening intently, but she could hear nothing. Moving quickly, she picked up the small bag and headed out of the clearing and back to the village.  
She had grabbed Peter by the arm after dinner, and quickly asked him if he had told anyone, including the storyteller, that Clarke knew about her. Peter’s insistence that he didn’t break his promise to her convinced her that Lexa didn’t know she was there. 

Maybe Lexa was just throwing out a general thank you to the gift spirits or some other type of unknown grounder deity. Clarke hadn’t really put much thought into the consequences of giving Lexa gifts, she had just assumed the storyteller would think it was the children. The fact that Lexa had waited until after the children had gone before mentioning the gifts, made Clarke feel uneasy. 

Clarke groaned as her mind played out scenarios, should she just stop going, she didn’t want to be discovered, what would the storyteller think of a grown woman spying on her while she told children stories? Clarke started to feel very foolish, what had she been doing,? what did she think would eventually happen? She had to stop going and maybe she should inform the council after all. 

Clarke chewed the inside of her cheek as she made her way to her cabin, she was more than glad to find Raven not there, she desperately needed to be alone right now.

As she threw herself on her bed, she felt the bulge of the leather bag she had picked up in the clearing. She pulled it from her pocket and stared at it for a moment, she really shouldn’t have touched it, she thought, it just implicated her even more in the mess she now found herself in. 

She sighed dramatically before deciding to look inside the bag, she carefully untied the leather thong holding it closed and emptied the contents into her hand. 

Clarke's eyes widened and she laughed out loud, there in her palm was the ugliest creature she had ever seen. It was the Pauna, and it was exactly as she had imagined it from Lexas story. Pauna was indeed a hideously deformed gorilla.

Clarke examined the figure closely, it was exquisitely carved, she thought, as she admired the details. She wondered if Lexa had found it or made it. As she examined the material used she realised that it had been carved from bone not wood and lifted it to her nose. 

She could smell the lingering odour of marrow and realised that it must have been carved recently from new bone. Certainly within the last few weeks, she smiled as she realised that the storyteller must have carved it herself.

She held the figure in her hand enjoying the way the bone absorbed the warmth of her skin. As Clarke continued to hold the carving she began to wonder if Lexa had accidentally dropped the figure or had she left it behind deliberately. If Lexa had left it deliberately, maybe it was meant as a gift of sorts. Clarke pondered the pauna, finding the thought endearing. 

Or maybe it was meant as a curse or a threat;  
Clarke thought, suddenly becoming more than a little paranoid, the thing was pretty ferociously ugly after all. 

Clarke frowned and placed the figure back in its pouch, tying it closed and placing it in her back pack. She needed sleep, she had an early start and a long morning in the garden tomorrow. 

She would decide whether to go back to the clearing when she had finished at lunch time. She turned off her lamp and settled her head on her pillow, hoping Raven would stay with Bell again tonight, she could really use the sleep.

Clarke rose early, well before dawn, noting from the empty bed beside her, that Raven had indeed spent the night elsewhere. She was happy for her friend and it also had the added advantage of being free from Ravens random pranking. 

Clarke pulled on her clothes and hoisted the back pack onto her shoulder; she would fill up the pack from the mess hall and swing past the bath house before she met Finn and Harper in the square. 

The three friends walked carefully along the gravel road to the gardens, Finn had a solar lantern swinging on a pole in front of them to light their way. The air was still chilly and Clarke could make out the first bird song of the day. 

As they approached the gardens, Finn hooked the lantern to cast light across the field for them, Clarke and Harper unloaded their tools and began prepping the seedlings for planting. Clarke picked up a tray of plants and lifted her head towards the east where the sky was lighting up.

Clarke smiled as she watched the planet mercury as it shone briefly before the sun rose. Venus was still bright and high on the horizon, she sighed sadly as she remembered the warmth of her father’s hand as he had guided her gaze to the sky as a child. 

Clarke was about to drop her eyes back to the seedlings when she noticed a flash of light off to the north east, she paused and tried to focus on the distant shadow of the escarpment which loomed over alpha village and the forest beyond. 

She stared for a moment unable to discern anything from the dark and was about to return her gaze back to her work, when she suddenly saw it again. Her breath caught when she saw the small reddish glow, high up in the darkness of the escarpment, a warm light, soft and inviting, it flashed for a moment and then was gone again. 

Clarke felt the draw of that light and tried to brush it off as wishful thinking, but as she returned to her work, she knew in her heart that the light belonged to Lexa’s hearth.

As they worked in the garden the sun rose higher in the sky and the heat displaced the cool of the night. Clarke felt the sweat running down her back and she flicked it out of her eyes. She stood up and stretched her aching back, she grabbed her water skin and gestured to Finn and Harper to take a break. As Clarke lifted the skin to her lips her eyes traveled to the escarpment. 

She could now make out the cliff face and the overhanging rock shelf, she realised that it would be the perfect place to set up a camp. You would have shelter, water nearby and an unrestricted view of the valley, the river and Alpha village. 

If Lexa was up there she had chosen her camp very well. Clarke had decided to return to the clearing today, she would return the pauna carving, along with the addition of some nut bread she had picked up at the mess hall for breakfast. 

As she returned to work, she caste a brief fond look back at the escarpment and decided that she would ask Jasper if she could borrow his binoculars today at lunch time.


	8. A Story of Misunderstanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I apologise for my poor offering in return for your very generous ones” Lexa spoke softly and Clarke's throat clenched as her stomach plummeted.  
>  “I meant no offense I had hoped it would amuse you” Lexa continued as she looked around the clearing, her eyes searching, her face sincere and terribly sad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay, but here is a short one for you...

Later that day Clarke crept into the clearing and placed the pauna figure on top of her gift of nut bread.   
She wrapped the bread in a soft red cloth she had traded for four coins at the market two days earlier.  
It was expensive but she loved the colour, it was rich and rare and she thought the storyteller would like it. 

Walking quickly to her boulder Clarke dropped to her knees and crawled in under the bush until she was in her alcove. Jasper had promised to give her his binoculars at dinner that night and she was excited at the prospect of locating Lexa’s camp.

Clarke waited eagerly for the storyteller to arrive; she peered through the crevice, her palms sweaty as she gripped the hard surface of the rock. She held her breath when she heard the tell-tale rustling in the forest which marked the arrival of the storyteller.

Clarke’s eyes widened as Lexa came into view; because of the warmer weather Lexa was wearing a sleeveless top revealing more skin than she normally did. Clarke could see that Lexa had put a little weight on since the first time she had seen her. 

The Storytellers arms were no longer as thin and her body seemed stronger less frail. Clarke hoped it was due in part to the food she had been gifting the storyteller.   
Clarke froze in anticipation of the moment when Lexa saw her latest gift. 

She watched as the Storyteller approached the red bundle and felt confused when she saw a look of consternation appear on Lexa’s face.   
The storyteller reached down and picked up the Pauna figurine holding it loosely in her hand as she stared at it, before bowing her head and sighing. 

Clarke felt a sense of sadness emanating from Lexa and she suddenly realised her mistake, the figurine had been a gift, not something accidentally left behind and Clarke had returned it.

Feeling miserable Clarke watched as Lexa dropped the Pauna into her travel bag before reaching for the red cloth and un-wrapping the nut bread.   
Clarke felt her heart ache as she watched a sad smile touch Lexa’s face as she raised the bread to her nose, closing her eyes as she breathed in the aroma.

She watched as Lexa opened her eyes and sighed again; lifting the red cloth to her cheek she rubbed it softly against it for a moment, before she straightened and wrapped the bread back inside it, she then placed the gift in her pack. 

Clarke held her breath as Lexa turned towards the clearing and held her hands in front of her, palms open.

“I apologise for my poor offering in return for your very generous ones” Lexa spoke softly and Clarke’s throat clenched as her stomach plummeted.  
“I meant no offense I had hoped it would amuse you” Lexa continued as she looked around the clearing, her eyes searching, her face sincere and terribly sad.

Clarke fought hard against her instinct to reveal herself and comfort the storyteller, she had half moved towards the opening when she paused as she could hear the children beginning to arrive and she knew that now was not the time. 

Moving slowly back to the crevice she watched as Lexa composed herself, her features smoothing out as she prepared to meet the children.

There and then Clarke decided that she would not only find Lexa’s camp but she would introduce herself and try to explain why she had left the gifts. 

She had never meant to hurt Lexa or appear ungrateful for the months of joy the storyteller had given her, but clearly she had inadvertently done so. 

That thought alone made Clarke's heart clench and she felt mortified that she was now in this position. Maybe she should have revealed herself from the beginning; clearly she should never have started leaving gifts, she chastised herself.

She would take Jaspers binoculars tonight and find the campsite, she would forgo tomorrow’s story and instead she would wait for Lexa to return and explain everything to her.   
Though she had no idea what she would say to her once they were finally face to face.

It had taken longer than she had anticipated getting away from her friends after evening meal, it was O’s birthday and Bel and Raven had organised an impromptu but rather raucous celebration for her. Clarke had made her escape just as the sun set and with the binoculars around her neck had climbed one of Alpha’s two water towers. 

With a commanding view of the village and the mountain behind it, Clarke scanned the rock face eagerly, searching for a light in the gathering darkness. Her hands shook slightly and Clarke took a deep calming breath as she adjusted the focus wheel, trying to make out details of the rock.  
After many long minutes she began to despair she would not find anything but as she moved the binoculars up once more, she suddenly caught a flash off to the right. 

It took a moment to find the light again, but as soon as it appeared in the lenses, Clarke quickly adjusted the focus again, until she could see a small orange glow, flickering slightly, disappearing sometimes, before repairing again, almost as if someone was walking in front of a fire.   
“Found you” Clarke murmured happily.

Clarke quickly made a mark on the railing she was leaning against, directly under the binoculars, she would return in the morning so that she could pin point exactly where the fire pit was and make her way to the spot after her shift in the clinic. 

She lifted the binoculars’ again and watched the little glow for some time before finally turning away and climbing down the tower.

Clarke settled her chin on her hands and waited. It had taken longer than she had expected and she was tired and sweaty by the time she finally found Lexa’s campsite.

Now Clarke lay hidden, behind a row of small shrubs, lying in wait for the storyteller; she eyed the deserted campsite with curiosity.   
It was quite well hidden, set deep inside a rock shelf. Clarke could see the remains of Lexa’s camp fire from the morning. She could also make out a small pile of clothing, blankets and some furs as well. 

Beside these she saw a wooden box that Clarke’s hands twitched to open and rifle through.   
Clarke opened her mouth minutely, willing her breath to soften and pass silently across her lips.   
Clarke held her body perfectly still, her heart rate increasing in anticipation, her eyes sharpening their focus as she waited.

Clarke first sensed rather than saw the storyteller, a change in the air, a shimmering of light, she couldn’t place it, but she knew something had changed at the arrival of Lexa. Her first glimpse of the storyteller was almost anticlimactic. 

Lexa moved slowly and quietly into view she had obviously completed her storytelling and had made her way through the dense forest and up to her campsite. Clarke noticed with some concern how tired Lexa seemed.

Clarke watched as Lexa moved purposefully around the rock shelf dropping her water skin, pack and her staff. Clarke watched Lexa remove her coat, amazed that she had worn it despite the heat of the day.   
Clarke swallowed painfully as her eyes followed Lexas fingers as they untied the cords that held her vest together. Clarke looked away, suddenly feeling unsure of herself and questioning her motives for being here. 

Lexa was clearly vulnerable and Clarke was witnessing that vulnerability without the storyteller’s knowledge and certainly not with her permission.  
Clarke felt an overwhelming desire to leave, she shouldn’t have come, what had she been thinking, but how could she get away without being seen. 

Clarke looked up again as Lexa finished removing her vest and stretched her arms above her head, her back now to Clarke, who watched as Lexa rolled her shoulders and moved her neck from side to side.

Lexa suddenly dropped to her knees and leaned forward, her arms making jerking movements and Clarke wondered uneasily for a moment what she might be doing until she saw small tendrils of smoke twirl around Lexas body. A fire, Lexa was making a fire, Clarke relaxed and watched closely as Lexa tended the fire, her back still to Clarke.

It was now or never Clarke thought, if she wanted to escape now was her chance. Clarke tried to move, inching backwards, balancing her body on her elbows and toes, trying to touch as little of the ground as she could. She had made it back several metres before the storyteller cleared her throat, making Clarke stop abruptly. She looked up and held her breath.

“You should stay and have some tea” Lexa spoke quietly her attention still on the fire.  
Clarke didn’t move, maybe Lexa was referring to someone else, maybe another one of her grounder deity’s, she thought hopefully.

“After all you gave it to me.” Lexa continued, stoking the fire with a branch, her eyes still on the fire.   
“Seems such a shame not to share it with you.” She added softly. 

Clarke’s eyes focused on the storytellers back. What should she do? This was not how she imagined today would go.

She watched in horror as Lexa slowly twisted her body and turned her head so she was looking over her shoulder, her eyes glowed with reflected firelight looking almost unearthly in the dimming light. 

When those eyes met hers, Clarke almost shrieked, instead she clamped a hand over her mouth stopping the sound but unbalancing her body so that she rolled over onto her side, all pretense of remaining hidden embarrassingly shattered.

Clarke pulled herself up, brushing her clothes off as she slowly stood up, her head bowed to hide her furiously flushed cheeks.   
“Well this is fucked” she grumbled under her breath.

She heard a soft chuckle and surprised, Clarke dared to raise her head sightly, so she could peek through her hair at the storyteller.

Lexa had moved to the other side of the fire and was now sitting cross legged facing Clarke, her hands resting on her knees a slight smile brushing her lips. Her green eyes sparkled with humour as she openly appraised Clarke who, it now seemed, had lost the power of speech.

After several more embarrassing moments of looking but not looking at Lexa, The story teller finally took pity on Clarke and gestured to the fire where Clarke could see a pot bubbling. 

“So, Tea?” Lexa asked.


End file.
